


And He's Oh, So Good

by pinkwithoutplot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8263679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwithoutplot/pseuds/pinkwithoutplot
Summary: Just some quick & dirty desk sex!





	

Sam grabs Smith by his navy tie and pushes the pencil between his plush lips.  
“Bite down on this. I’m not small.”  
Smith smirks, opens up and then clamps it between his straight white teeth.  
Sam’s doesn’t know what he’s thinking, doing this, talking dirty. He’s never even been with a man before, and Smith is a smarmy, soya-latte-drinking corporate douchebag. But the minute their eyes locked in the elevator, Sam knew this was on the cards. He can’t explain it.  
He presses forward and the spit-slicked head of his cock sinks into Smith’s incredibly tight hole. As expected, Smith’s eyes squeeze shut and he grunts around the pencil in his mouth. Sam drags him right to the edge of the desk, legs propped up on his shoulders, his ass exposed. He adjusts his grip on the other man’s ankles and slams it home. Smith’s breath leaves him in a rush, and he thrashes underneath him. He’s mumbling something Sam can’t hear for the blood thundering in his ears. He snatches the pencil out from Smith’s teeth and tosses it away.  
“What did you say?” he says, his words dissolving into a moan as Smith clenches around him.  
“I said, fuck. That’s big.”  
“Told you.”  
Sam demonstrates with a quick snap of his hips and Smith’s head thunks back on the desk. He suspects this isn’t the first time Smith’s taken a dick. A stab of possessive anger makes his next few thrusts more brutal. Smith cries out and Sam clamps a hand over his mouth. God, that mouth. He was lost the minute he saw Smith lick his lips, a nervous habit he suspects.  
“Jesus, you feel good. So tight.”  
Smith hums against his cupped hand, tickling the skin.  
Sam fucks him hard, the legs of the desk scraping across the carpet tiles. Smith’s cock is hard, jouncing against his own belly, a steady dribble of clear fluid leaking from the tip. The sight of it drives Sam perilously close to the edge.  
“You’re hard. Does it feel good? My cock in your ass? Tell me how it feels.”  
Sam only remembers to take his hand off Smith’s mouth when he starts smearing his answer wetly against his palm.  
“Feels weird. Feel so full. I can’t believe we’re doing this where anyone could walk in. Want you to blow your load inside me. Wanna feel it leaking out all afternoon. Make me come, Sammy.”  
Sam frowns as the nickname sends a shudder through him. This feels…wrong…suddenly. Like he’s forgotten something vital, buried it temporarily, but it’s about to resurface. There’s a term for it, he knows. Presque vu.  
His hips still.  
“Did you just call me Sammy?”  
Dean’s forehead furrows quizzically.  
“Maybe. Yeah. Sorry. Just, don’t stop. I’m close.”  
He worms a hand between them and starts jacking his cock.  
Sam feels strange, displaced. It’s a bit like loneliness and a bit like thirst. There’s something disturbing about Smith, and comforting at the same time. Sam wants to get under his skin. He wants to see if Smith will let him. He just wants. Sam’s never had himself pegged as obsessive stalker material, but fuck, this man is messing him up. Dean. He wants to punish him for confusing him like this. He wants stay inside him forever. He wraps Smith’s tie around his hand, pulls it tight, making the other man gasp.  
“Dean!”  
He doesn’t realise he’s chanting his name out loud until he feel’s Smith’s well-manicured fingernails digging into the meat of his thighs, pulling him in deeper, and hears his reply.  
“Yeah! Sam. Give it to me. Come on.”  
Sam blinks sweat out of his eyes and, before he can second-guess himself, he jerks Smith’s tie upwards, and leans down to lick that gorgeous mouth open. His lips are even softer than they look. Dean’s body locks up and Sam breaks off to watch, mouth gone slack, as he spurts long stripes of come all over his taut belly. Smith’s pale blue shirt is rucked up under his armpits, but a couple of streaks soak the fabric. His hole spasms wildly around Sam’s aching cock. Sam feels his orgasm rip through his entire body. Every nerve ending from his scalp down to the soles of his feet is alight. He pumps his load deep inside Smith.  
It feels so much bigger than anything ever has before.  
Dean is sprawled limply on the table now, shunted back and forth as Sam rocks into him. He’s beautiful, with his kiss-swollen mouth and heavy eyelids. He’s sin personified.  
Sam smoothes his hand over Dean’s chest and traces the dip of his waist. He runs his fingertips along his jutting hipbone. He dips down for one more taste of those lips before he pulls out as gently as possible. Dean winces.  
“Well, that just happened,” he ventures, trying for a smile. He’s afraid he might he cry or beg Dean to run away with him or something equally crazy.  
Dean grins, and Sam gets that vertigo sensation again, like the world is off-kilter. He needs an anchor, so he stumbles forward, clings to Dean, and kisses him soft and wet.  



End file.
